


Scars

by nefarious_irusu



Series: One-Word Prompts [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cutting, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, One Shot, One Word Prompts, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Short One Shot, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefarious_irusu/pseuds/nefarious_irusu
Summary: Viktor had never mentioned his scars. Whether out of respect or fear of Yuuri’s explanation, he wasn't sure.





	Scars

Viktor had never mentioned his scars. Whether out of respect or fear of Yuuri’s explanation, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that Viktor had ran his hands along the white marks slashed into his hips and thighs as they made love, and had never spoken a word about those raised lines of skin.

It was the last person Yuuri expected to who ended up asking, the angry blonde who rarely spoke to him. Since moving to Russia to be with Viktor, Yuuri could count on one hand how many times he and Yuri had engaged in an actual conversation. 

Yuuri jumped out of his skin as a cold hand wrapped around his wrist in the locker room, slender fingers keeping him from pulling his sweatpants on all the way. It was only then that he realized his underwear had ridden down during practice, his shirtlessness only serving to fully expose his scars to Yuri, who stared with narrowed eyes.

“Oi, Pig,” he began gruffly, dropping his hand from Yuuri’s wrist to point at the marks. “What are those from?”

Yuuri swallowed hard, pulling his pants up the rest of the way in a flash. “An old dance belt I had got worn down and the elastic started to dig in, but…” he trailed off, the familiar lie numbing his tongue as Yuri practically growled, shaking his head before Yuuri had found the strength to continue where he left off.

“ _When_ are they from?” Yuri changed his tactic. 

Yuuri sighed, averting his eyes from Yuri's harsh gaze. “College… mostly…”

“Mostly?”

Yuuri nodded, still refusing to look in Yuri's direction. “Mostly,” he repeated, softer.

After a few beats of silence, Yuuri dared to look up once more. Yuri's eyes were fixed on the line of lockers to the right of them, his brow furrowed and cheeks pink. “Why?” he finally asked, quiet enough that Yuuri had to strain to hear it.

Yuuri shrugged, grabbing his shirt from the nearby bench and pulling it over his head. “I'm fine,” he mumbled, wishing it were true. “Don’t worry, okay?”

He figured that the implication that Yuri might _care_ would be enough to end the conversation, or at the very least, cause him to go off on Yuuri about how he wasn't asking because he was _worried_ , but simply out of curiosity. Neither assumption proved to be true as Yuri scowled, kicking his sneaker into a nearby locker before turning to Yuuri with steadily reddening cheeks. 

“T-then tell me why,” he demanded, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. “If you're fine now, then tell me why you weren't before!”

Yuuri swallowed twice, but his throat still felt like sandpaper after the second time. His eyes burned as sharply as his shamed cheeks, and he once again had to turn away. “Because I was fat, because I was a fuck-up.” Yuuri swallowed a third time, but it did him no good. “Because I can't live up to anyone's expectations, because I crack under pressure, because Viktor deserves so much more than-"

“ _Idiot_!”

Yuuri gasped as a fist flew into his back, not quite hard enough to hurt. It was followed immediately by another, and then one more. Yuuri froze as he felt Yuri's head on his back, his heavy breaths seeping through the thin material of his shirt. Yuri clutched at the fabric, balling it up so tight that Yuuri leaned backwards from the pull of it.

“You're an idiot,” Yuri mumbled, still not letting go.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, though for what, he didn't know.

“Don’t do it anymore,” Yuri murmured. 

Yuuri sighed, readying his protest. “It's not that easy, Yu-"

“Don’t,” Yuri pulled away from him in a sudden motion, moving into Yuuri's frame of vision. With a trembling hand, he reached for the hem of his own shirt. “Don't do it anymore,” he repeated, as the loss of fabric revealed a pale ribcage, scattered with scars that matched Yuuri's own.

Yuuri inhaled sharply, his chest caving inside of him and splintering his lungs. He had to remind himself to breathe. “Why?” He managed, sounding broken, as Yuri's hand dropped to hide his secrets once more.

“Because I was unwanted, because I can't be as perfect as I want to be. Because no one understands how badly I wish I were somebody else. Because I'm lonely and because I don't know how to handle being so numb.”

Yuuri nodded, his head spinning badly enough that he had to sit down on the bench beside him. “You are wanted,” he offered quietly.

Yuri sat down next to him, beginning to pick at the knee of his leggings. “You aren't fat, and it wouldn't matter, even if you were.”

“No one is perfect, Yuri.”

“You were never a fuck-up.”

Yuuri spoke with more confidence, a weight lifting off his chest and making it easier to breathe. “I'm glad you aren't anyone else; I like you for who you are.”

Yuri's voice grew steadier too, rising a decibel. “Fuck anyone's expectations.”

“I'll be sure that you aren't lonely anymore.”

“It's okay to crack under pressure sometimes.”

Yuuri sighed, bravely putting a hand on Yuri's upper back. “I'll be here when you're numb,” he promised.

Yuri leaned into the touch the slightest bit, nodding in response. “You deserve Viktor,” he whispered, growing quiet again.

“We’ll both try, right? And… go to each other first, instead of acting on impulse.”

Yuri nodded, seeming to deflate. Yuuri couldn't decide whether it was from relief or not. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We'll go to each other first.”

“ _I hope neither one of us has to make anymore scars._ ”


End file.
